


Your Love's a Fucking Drag

by Ribbonlette



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Asphyxiation, Izaya being a manipulative fucker, Lowkey Jealousy, M/M, Possible One-Sided Love, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, like always, that probably isn't so lowkey but shizuo is so far in denial on that part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:29:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7966129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonlette/pseuds/Ribbonlette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've lost control and I don't want it back<br/>I'm going numb, I've been hijacked<br/>It's a fucking drag<br/>I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you<br/>So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do<br/>You're worse than nicotine"</p><p>Izaya is an addiction that is as exhausting as he is impossible for Shizuo to give up. So impossible he's not even going to try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Love's a Fucking Drag

Shizuo isn’t entirely sure why he ever agreed to this. It’s risky. It’s dangerous. It’s absolutely horrible, when he really thinks about it and at one point he would have done anything to avoid it. Would have said he’d rather die.

Yet as he relieves Izaya of his clothes and presses him harder against the wall, he just can’t bring himself to actually consider stopping. Izaya is a drug and quitting altogether has proven impossible.

Really, what would Shizuo do with himself otherwise? The burn of smoke on his tongue isn’t as sharp as the burn of Izaya’s lips, and surely no other drug could be half as addicting as the man currently arcing into Shizuo’s hands. No other drug could give the rush that Izaya does; not when sharp steel presses against Shizuo’s skin and he’s _finally_ caught him, _finally_ has Izaya at his mercy and he’s still laughing, still sending sparks of hatred and adrenaline coursing through Shizuo’s veins. 

It should be enough of a warning signal to tell Shizuo to run but instead it draws him in, has him pressing the flea into the wall and grinding hard against him. The thin boundary of boxers is not nearly enough to conceal their arousal, though certainly enough to dull the sensation just a bit and it leaves Shizuo aching for more.

That’s always how it is with Izaya; there’s never enough, never an end to this horrible game. He always needs more - they both do - and despite how dangerous it is, Shizuo will continue to give and take in hopes that someday it will finally be enough.

Unfortunately, with each press of lips and each drag of Izaya’s nails on Shizuo’s skin, Shizuo can feel his control slipping. He’s barely thinking about his actions anymore, running on a base instinct of rage and lust and Izaya is only feeding it. 

Izaya knows each and every one of Shizuo’s ticks by now and he just loves to abuse them. He taunts and moans, being as vocal as possible because they’re safe in Shizuo’s apartment and Izaya knows his voice drives Shizuo up a wall, in more ways than one. He alternates between fighting Shizuo every step of the way and going pliant in his hands, allowing Shizuo to set the pace and mood. And yet Shizuo can feel it on Izaya’s fingertips, taste it on his tongue; with every movement, every moan and sigh, Izaya is manipulating him. Making him play this game and Shizuo hates it.

But as he slips two slicked fingers inside Izaya - earning a nice gasp and sigh from the raven (that he hates himself for enjoying) - Shizuo knows he won’t be stopping tonight. Most likely, he won’t be stopping anytime soon. Izaya has sapped away the last of his control, taken everything out of Shizuo’s hands and in return given him a high that won’t last long enough for it to be worth it. And then soon enough he’ll be crawling back to the damn parasite, asking for more.

Because Izaya fills him up. In the emptiness that comes after his rage, the hollow feeling of adrenaline leaving him, Shizuo is terrified. He is terrified that one day his rage will leave him and in that emptiness he will find blood on his hands and bodies at his feet.

With Izaya around, at least his rage has direction. At least the emptiness that comes after the burning rage can be filled up with a different kind of heat, one that lets him down a bit softer, a bit more aware. He can remember more when he doesn’t completely blackout from rage and somehow Izaya is able to prevent that.

Somehow, Izaya manages to be the one thing that sharpens his rage into something he can no longer hold and allows him to hand it over; to the very person that creates it in the first place.

And it’s dangerous. So very dangerous, yet Shizuo continues to do it anyway.

What else can he do?

He already feels so numb. When Izaya is done with him, when Izaya has absorbed all his rage… it leaves him empty yet again. But somehow it’s a more bearable emptiness, one filled with the reminder that he didn’t hurt anyone, that he doesn’t have any blood on his hands but his own.

(And the flea’s, but Shizuo tries to convince himself that doesn’t count.)

Izaya is moaning against his lips, demanding more without bothering to use words because he knows Shizuo will understand him. And understand he does; Shizuo presses into the smaller man, holding him still as his teeth graze along Izaya’s shoulder. He can taste Izaya on his lips, on his tongue. Salty and metallic, Izaya always tastes of blood; lips tend to be bruising and teeth tend to break skin.

Shizuo hates the taste, but he never can seem to rid himself of it.

It follows him around, clinging to the back of his throat, just like the parasite it comes from; it may be out of sight, out of his immediate thoughts, but never completely out of mind. And as Shizuo grinds hard against Izaya, relishing in the strangled sound this elicits from the parasite, he can’t help but think that he’s fallen for some kind of trick.

Surely, this is all just some part of Izaya’s game? The man never takes anything seriously after all; why would sex with his enemy be any different? This is all just nothing more than something Izaya does to pass the time and Shizuo is just his toy, something to be thrown away whenever Izaya gets bored. Why else would Izaya want this?

Because Shizuo certainly doesn’t. He doesn’t do any of this because he _wants_ it. Maybe at first there was a desire, but by now that has certainly been twisted and changed into a _need,_ some kind of sick _addiction._

Thinking about it makes Shizuo want a smoke. But Izaya has already tainted that as well, has the tendency to steal the smoke right off Shizuo’s lips along with all common sense and Shizuo can’t even use that method to relax anymore.

Can’t escape the press of lips, the deep inhale as tongues slide against each other, the taste of himself rolling off Izaya’s tongue. It’s enough to make him breathless and seething, seeing red and wanting blood. And blood is one thing Izaya can always deliver, wanted or not. Skin breaks so easily under rough hands yet instead of screams all Shizuo ever hears is laughter, sharp and venomous, biting into his mind and latching on. Izaya’s voice never leaves his mind either.

And even if he would prefer to hear sounds of pain instead of sounds of pleasure as he pulls at Izaya’s hips with a bruising grip, he can’t exactly deny that the sounds he does get are addicting. Just like every other part of Izaya. 

Every single part of Izaya is a drug and with every dose it is injected right into Shizuo’s bloodstream. It courses through him, burning and setting him on edge, filling him up until he can feel Izaya under his skin, can feel him messing around with everything that makes Shizuo, _Shizuo._

And he no longer knows who he is, whether the person he is _with_ Izaya or the person he is _without_ Izaya is truly _Shizuo._ Whether he is a man or a monster or something strange and in between. Izaya’s bruising reaffirms the monster but Shizuo wants to believe that his disgust keeps him human. Unfortunately even that seems to be slipping from his grasp and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

Shizuo is losing to the drug in his veins, to the adrenaline and hatred bouncing between them as his hand closes around Izaya’s throat. Izaya’s laughter still rings in his ears even as he cuts off the bastard’s precious air supply. He’s giving it to the damn flea, giving him exactly what he wants because they both know that Shizuo will pull back at the last second, can’t give in completely.

And when they’re done there will be bruises on Izaya’s neck that Shizuo won’t be able to bring himself to look at. They are proof that he’s a monster, that he hurts everything he touches and as much as he would like to not care he does - he cares so _much_ \- and it’s burning him alive from the inside out.

So he’ll leave, leave as the burn in his veins refuses to, leave because he knows this is dangerous beyond all reason. Yet even as he tries to leave he knows that Izaya could always just go to someone else and somehow he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be so easily replaceable.

Despite all his strength, this drug that Izaya has become leaves him weak and he hates it.

But they aren’t done; not even close. Izaya is still gasping for air and laughing in Shizuo’s head and Shizuo is still growling curses around bitemarks in pale skin flushed red with arousal, and it’s all too much. It’s too much for Shizuo to handle and some days he wonders if it would be possible for him to die of Izaya overdose. Some days, he wishes it was; wishes it could be over that easy, that quickly.

Except Izaya would never allow it. He’s like a cat with a mouse; likes to toy with his prey and make it suffer until it’s begging for mercy and then play with it some more. Izaya has claimed the position as Shizuo’s god and thrills in torturing him, bringing the invincible monster to his knees, and Shizuo is sure that it wouldn’t stop until he’s begging for Izaya to end it, to end _him,_ and then, _even then,_ Izaya would probably laugh in his face.

Nails drag across heated skin hard enough to draw blood and Shizuo can’t keep back a small sound of his own. It feels like a defeat; admitting that he is in some way enjoying this torture that Izaya puts him through - because he is, he’s enjoying it _far too much_ \- and it’s humiliating. Humiliating because Izaya is still laughing and humiliating because no matter what he does Izaya will continue to drag him farther and farther down.

Izaya will continue to bring out his worse, to do the most horrible things to get his attention. Even as Shizuo tries to pull himself up, to cause less destruction to himself and those around him, Izaya continues to undo everything Shizuo works for. With just a bat of his eyes, the press of his lips, the taste of his tongue, Shizuo is trapped in the cycle of Izaya’s insane destruction and desperation and at this point there seems to be no way out.

Part of Shizuo wishes this wasn’t the case. Part of Shizuo wishes that Izaya would lift him up instead, help make this high something other than an illusion. Wishes that Izaya would act human for once and admit that maybe - _just maybe_ \- he isn’t as horrible as he makes himself out to be, that maybe he has emotions too.

But it’s so hard for Shizuo to believe that could even be a possibility when Izaya’s idea of _“love”_ is twisted beyond all reason. It isn’t directed at Shizuo, in fact Shizuo is the one person it isn’t directed at - and Shizuo could never admit to how painful that is - but it is horribly twisted nonetheless. Izaya watches a war of his creation blossom around him and gushes about how adorable his humans are and it makes Shizuo sick.

Yet every time Shizuo sees that sharp, bloody gaze directed away from him he finds himself craving it. He craves Izaya’s hatred just as much as he craves his touch, his taste, his drug. It makes him want to crush the damn flea, to destroy the infuriating laughter that makes his blood boil. Shizuo wants nothing more than to cut Izaya out of his life completely so he doesn’t have to feel the burning desire that floods him with every look that Izaya directs at someone else.

Unfortunately addictions don’t work like that. Shizuo needs every hit he can take and in the moment when Izaya’s laughter stutters into a breathy moan and Shizuo’s world goes white, it feels worth it. For one moment of bliss, the burn is bearable and the emptiness is filled with light and the ache in Shizuo’s chest isn’t quite so tight.

But then Izaya is laughing again and Shizuo already feels empty.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my drafts for nearly a year now and i just like it enough to post it i guess. i hope it's actually interesting, even if it is more Shizuo thinking about how Izaya is awful than any sort of plot... it's kind of based around Nicotine by P!ATD bc that song just fits them so well and i'm songfic trash HA


End file.
